


By Invitation Only

by OtakuElf



Series: Fear, Faith, and Friendship [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Healing, Healing Sex, M/M, Magical Healing Cock, Other, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 00:56:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtakuElf/pseuds/OtakuElf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabela teases, and Fenris gets curious in Blood Magic, Fear and Faith.  Fenris has invited Anders to join them for the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Invitation Only

**Author's Note:**

> This is a side event that occurred in Blood Magic, Fear and Faith. Not canon in any way.

Anders knocked briskly on the splintering wooden door to Isabela’s room at the Hanged Man. It took a moment before Isabela threw open the door and dragged Anders into the room with her arms around his neck. It made sense to draw her close for an enthusiastic kiss. Maker, it had been a long time since he had kissed a pretty girl. Even longer since his time at the Pearl with Isabela and the Lay Warden.

Inside the room, Fenris tensed at the knock. Isabela had shot him a mischievous smile as she answered it. Anders received her arms about his neck almost as mischievously. Certainly the mage did not look self-conscious as he pulled Isabela into his kiss.

Fenris leaned against the wall, shocked. It was like seeing another person, not the man he had known for years. The mage swept into the room; amazing how every one of Hawke’s companions seemed to fill so much space. Even Merrill, self-effacing as she was, had a presence. The mage drew Isabela into a deep kiss, hands moving to fit comfortably on her curves. Fenris was unused to seeing this man handle Isabela, or anyone really, with familiarity. Was this jealousy? A bad way to start the evening. 

Isabela, for her part, was laughing into the kiss and molding her body to the mage’s in an obscene manner. Fenris felt left out, but he also found himself unable to take his eyes from the mage’s clean shaven face. Then the pair broke for air.

Of course it was best not to forget the reason why Anders was here, though Isabela was distracting indeed now that Anders had decided to do this. Fenris was leaning against the wall staring at Anders intensely, as though seeing him for the first time. With a smile Anders reached toward the _elvhen_. “Fenris.” Anders put as much welcome as he could into the invitation.

Anders had forgone his robes and feathered coat for a tunic embroidered at the cuffs and neck over a pair of extremely tight pants. The dark pants were tucked into his normal boots. The royal blue of the tunic went well with the mage’s coloring.

And Anders had shaved. Fenris could not remember ever seeing the man clean-shaven. There was a smile on his face as he turned to look directly at Fenris, stretching a hand to him. “Fenris?” It was an invitation.

Pushing off from the wall, Fenris walked forward, and was pulled into Anders’s long-limbed embrace. The kiss he received was gentler, more seductive, less overwhelming than Isabela’s had been. There was a coaxing tongue parting Fenris’s lips, and drawing him into explorations of his own. Different from kissing Isabela, who had been Fenris’s first kiss. Slaves are not kissed when their masters use them.

Then came the sound of glass against glass, the decanter of Antivan brandy clinking on the rim of one of Isabela’s Nevarran goblets, and then liquid pouring. “Strong spirits, anyone?” Isabela asked.

Anders broke the kiss, continuing to look down at Fenris. “No, please.” Fenris realized that Anders was speaking to him, not Isabela. “Some things are best done sober.” The velvet tone, the eyes on his, dried up Fenris’s mouth. 

Fenris licked his lips. “No. None for me.” He hated that his voice was croaking.

Tongues connected and retreated, exploring and inviting while lips touched and slid. Fenris’s strong fingers traced upwards into Anders’s hair, releasing the gold spill from the leather restraint, holding Anders’s head down, Fenris’s lips to his. Anders’s hands were on Fenris’s shoulders, gripping tightly, a knee insinuating between Fenris’s legs, pressing against the pleasant sign of Fenris’s excitement. Fenris’s thigh slipped up and into Anders’s groin to rub against his erection. So the mage desired this? Fenris was uncertain as to whether he could get any harder himself. This confusion was heady enough without strong drink.

Anders could feel Fenris’s lyrium - a hum, a vibration, more excited than Anders had felt before. Did Anders’s eyes open a thread to show a hint of blue? When Fenris pulled back it was to look up into Anders’s familiar brown gaze, into a smile that Anders did not often direct to him.

In the break of the kiss Isabela slipped her arms around Fenris’s waist, opening her lips to a deep kiss with the mage over Fenris’s shoulder. There was an element of slow dance as Isabela and Anders circled to exchange places.

Anders ran his hands along the back of the warrior’s shoulders, not lightly. Isabela took Fenris’s wrist and unfastened the cord frogging enclosing her lover, bringing the inside of his wrist to her mouth, trailing a tongue along the lines and tendons. Anders’s left hand combed up through Fenris’s soft white hair starting at the _elvhen_ man’s nape. Fenris could feel Anders’s breath on his neck as lips grazed his spine and teeth gently bit. Isabela had moved to Fenris’s other wrist, her tongue lapping down to Fenris’s palm and then along the calloused fingers, pulling them into her warm, wet mouth. The pair of them were seducing him as though used to working in tandem. It seemed...choreographed, or possibly inevitable.

Anders was exploring Fenris’s neck with his mouth while his other hand glided over Fenris’s shoulder and began to work at the frogging holding Fenris’s tunic closed. Pulling the tunic open, Anders’s mouth traveled further down. More frogging released and fabric dragged off of Fenris’s shoulders. As the tunic was further and further removed, it pulled down and off of Fenris’ body. Anders tongued, following Fenris’s spine, the landscape of his body, not the bright lyrium paths through the dark skin. That, along with being undressed by the mage - not just any mage, _this_ mage - excited Fenris more than anything else.

Isabela’s clever fingers traced over Fenris’s groin through the leggings, and she bit at the tips of Fenris’s pointed ear, warm breath of her quiet laughter bringing a shiver.

Kneeling behind, Anders reached around to replace Isabela’s hand at Fenris’s groin. Fenris ached where Isabela had touched him, and now Anders tugged at the ties, loosening them before slipping fingers into the waist and pulling at the conforming clothing. Peeling the black leggings down over muscular legs, Anders’s kisses still followed down the spine until they reached the tailbone. There was a pause as the leggings were slipped down to Fenris’s ankles. Anders still knelt behind the elf, warm hands caressing Fenris’s skin. Expecting the mage’s touch on his cock, Fenris could feel Anders’s smile against his body, then Anders gently slipped his tongue down into the cleft and across the ring of muscle before him. The _elvhen_ tensed. Anders could hear Isabela murmuring to Fenris up above as the healer began to lap and press with a skilled tongue, hands holding steady around Fenris’s thighs. Sliding the tip into the _elvhen_ brought a shout from Fenris, wordless and quickly muffled by Isabela’s lips. Fenris had grabbed Isabela by the shoulders, trembling as Anders - the healer, the _mage_ \- touched him so intimately. Isabela kept her body back, away, teasingly, from Fenris’s hardness, her hands holding his hips still as her mouth claimed his. The moans increased as Anders worked the tip of his tongue patiently further inside.

Just when Fenris thought he would go mad from the teasing, Anders sat back, and Fenris relaxed in Isabela’s hold. She grinned down at Anders over Fenris’s arm. “Bed?” she asked.

“Bed, definitely.” Anders grinned back.

“That was,” Fenris said, voice shaking slightly, “not what I was expecting.”

His statement was greeted by warm laughter, not mocking, but including him. A ripple, a shudder rode up his spine as the fully clothed Anders and Isabela pulled the naked Fenris to the bed, which was much larger than the cot Anders slept in at the clinic. Fenris looked at Anders from under his white mane, then following Anders’s gesture toward the bed, climbed onto it to be dragged down beside Isabela. They kissed passionately while Anders shrugged off the blue tunic, but watched attentively as the mage slowly and theatrically removed the overly tight trousers, revealing long limbs, pale and dusted with dark gold hair, and an impressive erection of his own. Isabela made a noise of approval before shimmying out of her own clothes. Fenris commented to Anders as he crawled onto the bed, “I have never had anyone do that to me before. Given it, but not received.”

Anders smiled, then said, “Have you and Isabela ever used a safe word? I need to know what yours is. If there is anything you feel uncomfortable with, use it to stop me.”

Fenris licked his lips. “Blood.”

Isabela laughed. “Husband.”

Anders nodded, then said, “Templar.”

Isabela took her place curled at his side, and kissed her lover. “Enjoying this, Fenris?”

Fenris’s answer was lost in a moan as Anders put his lips over the tip of Fenris’s cock and began to suck gently. 

It became apparent that Fenris had been correct. Anders might be weak-willed. He might be borderline insane, and possessed by a Fade spirit. Anders, however, knew what he was doing in bed. Fenris gripped the bedclothes beneath him, thinking, _Maker! Where did the mage learn to use his tongue like that?_

Anders was teasing him, drawing it out, and Fenris could only relax into the mage’s hands...so to speak. Then Isabela spoke. “Maker, Anders! I’ve never gotten a sound like that out of him. Show me?” And she clambered down to where Anders worked his wonders.

Anders kissed the pirate sloppily before returning to his task.

Then there were two mouths upon him, two tongues making him feel out of control. Fenris found himself shouting in Tevene, which stopped Anders’s mouth, hand still moving lazily upon Fenris. ‘Yes, Fenris.” Anders licked his lower lip and went on wickedly, “Fuck! Anders! You will fuck Anders.” A hand gripped his base tightly, granting him respite from his imminent orgasm. “Oh, liked that, did you? And later? Anders will fuck Fenris!”

Fenris could only moan in response as Anders resumed, swallowing Fenris down until the _elvhen_ felt himself falling over the edge into glory.

“Oh, sweetness.” Isabela was back at his side, skin to warm skin. “That made your toes curl,” she said as Fenris rode out the shudders of climax.

Fenris reached for her, this amazing woman, his woman, dragging her into a bruising kiss. When he could speak, he said, “I am aware that your talented mouth was involved.”

“Tiger, I’m not jealous.” Isabela’s return kiss on the corner of his mouth was gentle. “Happy for you, rather.”

Anders had crawled the length of the bed to join them. A finger trailed along Fenris’s ribs, strongly enough not to tickle. “So, circumcised?”

“It is the custom in Tevinter. But I had not heard it was the custom in the Anderfels,” Fenris answered.

“It isn’t. I was cut when I was taken to the Circle. It is the common practice there. May I use magic? And may I touch your lyrium?” It was asked neutrally, and for a moment Fenris could only nod his head in agreement.

Then he said, “Yes. Go ahead,” with a little hitch of breath.

Anders reached down and cupped Fenris’s softening penis and sack. Magic, soft; Fenris’s markings glowed gently in response, flooded into the _elvhen_ through his genitals, providing what Fenris recognized as a rejuvenation spell. Then Anders began to touch his markings, starting with the ones on his chin, tracing down his body.

Anders had touched Fenris’s skin before, had healed gashes and holes, burns for fire and acid, and he knew how sensitive Fenris was to magic. Tracing the lyrium, it felt like scar tissue to Anders’s fingers. Pushing a thin tendril of healing energy down into the lyrium, Anders closed his eyes and followed the magic into Fenris.

Fenris gasped, but at Anders’s open questioning eyes waved for the healer to continue. Anders dove back down through the highways of Fenris’s glimmering lyrium brands. Fissures, leakage, tiny feathering cracks. Anders could feel the Veil. The lyrium pulled him in.

…

“BLOOD! Mage!” Anders realized that he was now crouching over the warrior, and that Fenris was holding his wrist away from his body in an iron grip.

Sitting up, holding the other hand away in the air, Anders stopped casting. “Did I hurt you?” he asked in panic.

Fenris was smiling at him. “No. No, though you were lost. It was -” he had to think of appropriate words “- pleasant. But it is not why you are here tonight, is it?”

“Oh, of course not,” Anders said, flustered. “What would you like me to do?”

“Take Fenris’s place, Anders. But lie down on your stomach.” Isabela caught his eye with a wink.

At Anders’s reproachful glance down at Fenris, Fenris interjected, “You’re naked, Anders. Did you think Isabela would not notice?”

Anders flopped onto his stomach, baring the scars for both to see. “I had hoped to distract her from it.”

A small crackle of electricity traced along his fingertips against the bed. Isabela’s fingers began to move along his hip, exploring the brand, ignoring the whip weals. “Sweetness, I have seen you naked many times.”

Fenris gave one of his looks to Isabela. “What if -” his deep voice sped up, raising “- the mark could be replaced?”

Anders blinked sideways at him. “Replaced? By what, Fenris?”

Looking away uncomfortably, Fenris said, “It would be distinctive. A mark that only I... that only my brands leave. But the templars’ mark would be -” Fenris shifted “- gone.”

Anders blinked again. “I have never seen anyone survive your phasing attack.”

Fenris was still looking away from Anders. “To my knowledge there have been only two.”

“Two?” Anders was exasperated. “Maker, Fenris, must I pull answers from you?”

“One was an error on my part. I am not proud of it. Realizing too late that the man was not a slaver, I pulled back as I lit the lyrium. It scarred his skin, though I did not destroy his heart.” Fenris was stolid.

At Anders’s impatient noise, Fenris’s tale went on, “Another was a man of quick reflexes. As my hand started into his chest the man dropped to the ground and rolled under a table.”

“Did he survive?” Anders was intrigued.

“No.” Fenris fought a satisfied smile. “Hawke sliced through the table and took his head off. But there was the burn left on his chest. It is distinctive, as I said.”

“So,” Anders recapped slowly, “you’re asking if I want you to burn off the brand. That never occurred to me. I could never guarantee that a knife could cut it off, or another brand could obliterate the original mark. They used heated knife blades for the lettering. It is a large mark.”

“It is the size of my hand,” Fenris told him, covering the mark to show it.

Isabela ran a finger up Anders’s naked spine, making him shudder. “Couldn’t you heal it though, Anders? If you’re using magic as he’s inside you - and my, those words sound _very_ good to my ears - would you be able to prevent any scarring at all?”

Anders sounded thoughtful from his face-down position. “I don’t know. It’s worth a try. And Maker and Andraste know I’d rather wear Fenris’s mark than the brand.”

Was that a growl from the _elvhen_? Anders could not see him from this position.

“I don’t mind your scars, Sparkles, but...” Isabela began to trail those fingers along the marks of flogging. “Seems that Fenris can take care of the one that really bothers you. And yes, I noticed it when we were bathing at Sundermount. Bathing alone with all those Dalish and giant spiders about. Very careless of you!”

Anders blushed; they could see the back of his neck reddening under the soft blonde hair, and he began to laugh. “You wretch! Were you watching when I...”

“I didn’t know you could use your electricity trick on yourself, Sparkles.” Isabela was demure. “Used that event in my friend-fiction for weeks!”

Anders could not stop laughing, head on his arms in front of him.

As the laughter died down he heard Fenris whisper into his ear, “So, mage? You do not mind if I mark you?”

Soon after Anders realized that his visit with the Widow Hand this evening had not been sufficient. He was not going to last. 

Fenris had pulled Anders over prone and facing up, straddling the mage and kissing him hard. Anders, startled, opened to the _elvhen_ and responded enthusiastically. The startlement went further when Fenris began to work his way down the healer’s body, biting and sucking, and leaving very obvious marks, down Anders’s neck, along his collarbone, around nipples, and trailing down the golden line of hair leading to an organ that had been left unattended by any but the Widow Hand for far too long.

“Teeth,” Anders gasped. “Is Fenris always this...ah! toothy?”

“Oh my, yes.” Isabela bit Anders softly on the shoulder herself. “Sometimes more so.”

“Is he going to bite my -” And Anders felt Fenris’s teeth softly close upon him, then drag lightly along the length of his cock. “Ah!”

“Isabela,” Fenris commanded from down below, “show me what he taught you.”

It had been trial and error and a good deal of experience that had honed Anders’s skill in sucking cock. Apparently Anders’s favorite technique for bringing a man to his knees was going to set him off as well, given the two clever tongues at work. “Maker, yes! Oh! Maker and Andraste and the Fade!” The words were muffled by the knuckles crammed into his mouth. Hips thrusting up from the bed, Anders’s spine curved and he came, shooting thick white beads of pearl onto Isabela’s and Fenris’s dark-skinned faces.

Anders shuddered, hand dropping from between teeth to rest on his flat stomach. Sighing, Anders opened his eyes as Isabela climbed his naked body to rest atop, just beside the streaks of white, smiling. “Enjoyed that, did you sweet thing?” was Isabela all over.

Anders chuckled, reaching up to swipe a splash of white from her cheek. Isabela licked his thumb lasciviously.

Fenris appeared at their side, his dark smile shared between the two of them. It startled Anders, even after pleasure given and received. A smile from Fenris to him was a gift the mage had never thought he would receive.

“So -” Anders smiled back breathlessly “- time for Isabela’s go?”

Fenris’s response was, “Will you not cast upon yourself now?”

“Ah.” Anders was still shivering from his climax. “You’ll see in a minute. Grey Warden stamina. No need for the spell for me. All appetites increase when you go through the Joining.”

“Sparkles!” Isabela exclaimed. “And you’ve been fucking your hand _how_ long?”

Anders gave an imitation of Fenris’s cocked eyebrow to the pirate. “Never you mind that, Isabela. Your go. And then,” he went on, “after we get Isabela ready, I suggest that I take Isabela, while you -” unfortunately, his wiggling eyebrows were not particularly sexy “- take me.”

“Best birthday present ever!” Isabela said prayerfully.

“It isn’t your birthday, Isabela,” Anders huffed.

“Feels like it is!” Isabela bit him gently on the lower lip.

“But before...” Anders put in.

“Before?” Fenris’s deep voice was amused.

“Before.” Anders’s hand went to Fenris’s hip, fingertips on smoothness, except where the lines of lyrium writhed across that dark skin.

A pale, long-fingered hand pulled the _elvhen_ closer, placing that dark thin hand around and on Anders’s arse. Fenris’s black eyebrows rose under his white bangs, and the fighter used the grip to pull the mage forward aggressively. Anders’s breathing stammered as heat rose between them, between the mage and the former slave to a magister. Those green eyes bore into the darkness of sweet honey, predatory, enjoying the slight surprise as Anders lifted a single blond eyebrow. The surprise became a challenge, decorated with a slight cocky smile below.

Anders’s tenor dropped. “You will need to make me ready before you take me.” And a fingertip slipped down, tracing the circular entrance, just slightly pressing in to tease Fenris. The elf breathed out, his eyes glazing over as Anders continued to tease. Anders’s fingers were slippery, different from the crude, often painful preparation Fenris was used to. “How?” It was unclear, at least to Fenris, what Anders meant. 

Anders seemed to understand, giving a sunny smile as he lifted a pot of salve in his other hand, the one not currently just sunk in by a tip inside Fenris’s arse.

“Cover one finger, the long one, I should think, and explore. Yes. Like that! You can push inside. Maker’s teeth, Fenris! You’re gentle. Oh, that feels good.”

Anders’s moan crossed over into a hum at the slide in and out, the addition of more salve, and then the insertion of a second finger, toying and stretching and brushing just over the spot, the one spot that caused Anders to shudder, going rigid in Fenris’s arms.

“Yes -” the sibilant was drawn out “- like that. Don’t stop,” Anders pleaded.

Third finger entered with the others, a stronger thrusting now. Their bodies were so tight, one against the other, that Fenris could feel the hardness trapped at his belly, his own ache pushing against Anders’s flesh. 

Anders’s own hands had stilled, one still holding the open clay pot of salve, the other now clutching at Fenris’s hip, holding himself still, preventing his body from rubbing his erection against the elf. “Forgotten about me, boys?” Isabela’s laughing comment slowed Fenris’s hand.

Anders pulled back, away. “Impatient, Isabela?”

“Mmmhnmmm.” She was still laughing. “Much as watching Fenris diddle you is getting me hot, I’d like to participate too.” She pouted.

Fenris’s fingers withdrew. Now it was Anders pouting as the elf pushed his lover over backward onto the bed, covering her dark-skinned body with his own. “You will not be left wanting.” He bit at the hinge of her jaw gently.

“Oh? Will it be you putting me in my place?” Her bubbling laughter was back.

“No, that job goes to Anders.” Fenris looked over a dark shoulder to the mage, kneeling up. 

A grin, and then Anders was toppling the elf over to take his place. A hot kiss on her lips, then Anders’s mouth traveled down, sucking, but not biting, and leaving small sparks as his fingers trailed across saliva-slicked bits of flesh. Isabela loudly proclaimed her enjoyment, at least until Fenris took control of her mouth.

That worked until Anders reached the triangle between Isabela’s legs, when she began to thrash under his mouth, biting into Fenris’s lower lip. “Oh, Maker! Anders!” 

Fenris looked down along Isabela’s body, moving in response to Anders’s lips and sparkling hands. Anders was being rather obviously careful not to touch Fenris while he was pleasuring Isabela, though a random spark caught his lips as he bent to kiss her once again.

It was not long till orgasm rolled through her body. She writhed in Fenris’s arms. Anders gentled her down with healing magic, restoring, repairing overloaded nerves. The mage smiled up at her, but Isabela’s eyes were blinking at the ceiling. “Anders, I had completely forgotten what that felt like.”

“Out of practice, Isabela. Sorry if it got too intense.” Anders sounded contrite.

“Oh, that was just fine.” Isabela licked her lips, then lifted her head and licked Fenris’ before kissing him lightly.

Then, she said with a grin, “I’m ready for the next round, boys!”

Anders slid into Isabela’s tight hot gate, burying himself inside of her. Maker, it felt incredible, so much better than he had remembered. Pulling out, he gave a twist as he thrust back in, bringing a pleased moan from the woman beneath him. Moving behind Anders, Fenris stiffened at the sound, curved fingers, and nails scratching slightly at Anders’s back.

“Fenris.” Anders paused, turning his head, and reached for the man. Fenris’s green eyes glowed from under his white bangs.

Anders’s tongue wet his lower lip and slipped his fingers along Fenris’s jaw, down along his neck and pulled him forward by a shoulder. Fenris allowed himself to be coaxed into a kiss.

Isabela squirmed against Anders, who gripped her hip tightly with the other hand, stilling her movements.

The kiss was not a demand; it was a request, a mere suggestion, inviting Fenris to take control. Anders’s hand moved again, his thumb sliding behind the flair of the _elvhen_ ear to rub against its connection to Fenris’s skull. Pulling back, Anders breathed against Fenris’s lips, “Tonight? I am yours. What is it you desire?”

“You would submit to the ‘wild dog’?” The question was asked in that quiet dark voice.

Anders’s breath caught. Then he heard, “Maker, Fenris! Whatever you just did, do it again!” from Isabela. 

Fenris pushed the mage back around to Isabela, parted him, entered smoothly and began to thrust, not roughly, but strongly. Each stroke as he pushed his way into the man added impetus to Anders’s now continued entry into Isabela. Fenris was coated with the salve that Anders had brought, but even so, he was larger than the three fingers Fenris had used to prepare the mage. Anders’s near-silent groan grew as Fenris set his teeth into Anders’s shoulder and held fast, taking the final thrust that sent Fenris inside him to the base. Fenris set the pace, a slow deliberate entry and back, striving to touch the area that Anders had shown him earlier.

Isabela was enjoying herself; she was a satisfactorily vocal lover. Anders - now, Anders was quiet, or working to be so. The choked moans became only slightly louder. The blond’s clenched hand raised to jam between his teeth, or would have if Fenris had not grabbed Anders’s arm and pulled it back. “No, Anders. I want to hear you. Cry out!” The thrusting, deep and slow, began to increase in speed. “Shout for me, Anders!”

Isabela cried out herself as she tipped into orgasm again, clutching, gripping at Anders with muscles rippling with waves of pleasure. Anders released his grip on her hip, but the woman grabbed his wrist with a hold of steel. “Sing for us, sweet thing,” she grinned, still bucking up against him.

Anders fell over the edge, driven into Isabela, Fenris thrusting in behind, though the thrusts were no longer slow and steady. Anders did not hear himself scream, but he also could not hold back.

Anders’s muscles clenched with his climax, and he felt Fenris pulse inside, his cock growing as the _elvhen_ thrust again and again before finally burying himself for his own release inside the mage.

Anders relaxed as they all twitched; he could not move until Fenris and Isabela allowed him. It occurred to him to be embarrassed at the noise he had made, and a blush climbed his already flushed skin.

The three were collapsed. Fenris on top of Anders, on top of Isabela, and Anders could feel his softening cock slip out of the woman as Fenris pulled out with a deep sigh. Fenris rolled beside Isabela who had closed eyes and a happy smile. “Mmmm,” she said, her voice deep and throaty.

Anders now rolled, collapsed upon them both; Anders, Isabela, and Fenris were in a heap on the mattress. Isabela, caught beneath the tall man, began to laugh. “This,” she giggled, “is why I wanted to be on top.”

“With whipped cream, ‘Bela?” Anders was breathless as he rolled to the side.

“Mmmmhmmm,” she hummed and snuggled against the elf.

After that there was companionable silence for a time. Anders could feel Fenris’s spend beginning to seep out. “Cleanup?” he asked as he crawled from Isabela’s side and out of bed. 

Isabela waved an arm toward a curtained closet; behind the drape hid a chamber pot, a basin, a pitcher of water and soap. Anders attended to his needs, then brought several damp cloths back to bed with him, along with a large towel, and, while Fenris disappeared behind the drab brown cloth drape, began to wipe Isabela down, rubbing her clean with the cloths, then fetched a vial from his pack and started to massage the herb-scented lotion into Isabela’s skin.

Fenris kissed the pirate softly. “I will get us some food,” he said before crawling from the bed.

Anders stretched out, sitting alongside Isabela, running long slender fingers in exploration along Isabela’s curves. “That feels very good,” she said sleepily.

Fenris watched the mage run his fingers through Isabela’s hair. He knew that hair so well, dark and heavy and warm in his hands, smelling of soap and saltwater. “Anders, I have dreamed of you doing this again,” Isabela groaned as the healer ran practiced hands up her hairline, and began to massage her scalp. Granted, it was interesting watching Isabela’s face at any time, but Fenris was hungry, and he could hear Anders’s stomach growling. Of course, that was normal. “Full body,” demanded Isabela.

Fenris dressed quickly and slipped out the door to obtain drinkable and fresh washing water, a pot of hot tea, and whatever food was available that was not Corff’s mysterious stew.

Anders’s strong practiced fingers dug into the muscles on Isabela’s neck. The pirate was relaxed beneath him, and Anders felt comfortable sitting astride her back, his weight resting on his own thighs. It was not a sexual comfort. Anders was not using the massage to seduce, but to share, to be companionable. This was nice, he thought, and utterly unlike anything he had enjoyed in the Circle. 

Isabela’s head was turned to the side, so her question was not muffled by the bedding. She had waited until Fenris left to ask, “So why are you doing this, Anders?”

Anders pretended shock, though he knew Isabela could not see him, only hear his mocking, “I have a magical healing cock, Isabela. Didn’t you know?”

“Well, it’s a lovely cock, sweetness, but we both know that’s not the reason you agreed to this. Your cock did not insist on coming.” There was a giggle. “Oops, unintended pun. Alright, then. Did your cock lead you here tonight?”

Anders shaped the words in his mind as he kneaded the muscles beneath him, sending a little flow of healing energy to move toxins out of the muscles and into the bloodstream. “You are going to need to drink some water when I’m done here, Isabela.”

Isabela laughed. “I imagine that you and Fenris are going to need some to keep from being dehydrated before the night is over.”

“Yes.” That was all.

“Yes, what? Yes, Isabela, you are a sex goddess, and I throw myself at your feet, er, upon your back to serve as your massage slave for the rest of my life?” It was said in a happy purr.

Anders sighed theatrically. “Alas, it is not to be, Isabela. I meant that yes, my cock led me here. It gave me an enormous hard-on when Fenris asked me to have sex with him. Fenris, of all people. And the way he asked was guaranteed to win my agreement. If I was going to break my abstinence, my monastic lifestyle, then it would have to be for something worth it. Something worth arguing with Justice about.”

He could see Isabela’s lips in a pout. “I was not worth it?”

“You are a lovely woman, Isabela, and very much worth any amount of sexual congress. But I rather thought that you wanted Fenris. You were watching him, when you were propositioning me. It was something of a decision maker.” Anders started on her arm.

Isabela did not deny this. “I wonder that you knew me that well.”

There was a smile in Anders’s voice. “It was a little obvious, Isabela. I grew up in the Circle. We had to watch for small signs, not the large ones. If it matters at all, it made me like you better. Your championing of Merrill and Fenris.”

“Oh, Anders, please. I know you don’t like Merrill.” Isabela sounded disapproving.

“Whether or not I like Merrill,” Anders replied, “or agree with her obsession and blood magic has nothing to do with whether or not I appreciate you taking care of her. And Fenris. And Hawke. And Varric.”

“And you?” It was sly.

“Yes.” A short reply again from the man shifting to her other arm.

“I rather thought that you were sweet on Hawke,” Isabela prodded.

“Yes,” came from Anders.

“Yes, but?” from Isabela.

“Yes, but Hawke is in love with Merrill. Hawke would not have been in love with me, even if Merrill had not caught his eye.” Was it liberating to actually speak of it?

Isabela’s reply was thoughtful. “Poor Anders.”

Ha! “Not so poor.” Anders moved to start working on the muscles of Isabela’s shapely back. “Well, yes, poor. So poor I had to borrow from Varric for the new clothing tonight. My debt to be repaid with a ‘favor’ of his choice at the time of his choosing. I was not going to show up in magister’s robes from Tevinter tonight. So be happy. For I have put myself in quite possibly a horrible debt for you and for Fenris.”

“Which leads me back to my question.” Isabela flexed her muscles under his hands. “Why?”

A heavy sigh from Anders, and a pause before he began to work on her spine. “Because Fenris is so very very unhappy with his past. Perhaps this will help with that.”

“And that, sweetness, is a reason to bed him?” Isabela sounded amused. “Or is it pity?”

“Not pity. Never pity.” Anders was abrupt. “Fenris does not deserve to be pitied, as though he were a kitten or a... “ There was a thoughtful pause. “Dog in the street. I disagree with Fenris over many things. I respect him, though. And he offered. So why not take the easy lay?” Anders hoped it would end there.

No such luck. “You’re not in love with him, are you?” 

“No, nor ever likely to be.” Time to deflect as Anders did not want to speak about the lack of any possibility of love. “But you are, Isabela. And you encouraged this. You put it in his mind. Why?” Anders had wondered before now.

“You’ve stopped,” Isabela complained.

“Waiting for an answer,” Anders responded. “Why?”

“Damnable feelings,” Isabela muttered, then said, “I can’t fix everything for Fenris. And I’m not sure I would if I could, as it would change him. But this? It will help free Fenris. Help to destroy that black dog on his back. Help him to see that everyone deserves life and love. Well, not love, but definitely sex. Loads of sex! Liberating and enjoyable sex!”

“The Chant according to Isabela?” Anders laughed lightly.

“The Chant According to Isabela. Enjoy sex!” Her laugh was comfortable. “Imagine Sebastian singing that?”

“No.” Anders began to rub down her back again. “I don’t think I will be doing that.”

“I’ve written a friend-fiction about that sort of thing,” Isabela smirked.

“I am quite sure you have. Full of throbbing engorged members, I have no doubt. There will be none of that between Sebastian and me. We are oddly friendly at the moment, and I am quite happy to leave it at that.” Anders realized as he said it that the statement was truth.

“But not with Fenris?” Isabela’s curiosity would not let it go.

“Ah, well, there I had the power to make a positive difference, Isabela. If Fenris sees me as capable of sharing this, and it is a sharing and not a brief encounter with a stranger, then perhaps he will readjust some of his...thinking.” It was not the best explanation, but as far as Anders could articulate it, it was true.

“About mages, Kitten?” Isabela was clarifying.

“About me,” Anders said, and began to knead more vigorously in a manner that allowed no breath for further discussion.

…

The food was edible, made all the more enjoyable because of the company, and the interesting ways that Isabela came up with to feed each other. “Fenris,” Anders said, licking his lips, “lie down on your back.”

Confusion reigned as the _elvhen_ followed instructions. “Will you use your mouth again?” he asked as Anders pulled up on those slim hips to lodge a pillow under them.

“No.” Anders gently spread Fenris’s legs. 

Finding the pot of salve again, Anders made certain that Fenris could see every aspect of the process. The cool slickness teased, entered, withdrew when Fenris tensed, then returned to press in again, slowly sliding in until Anders’s finger had all but disappeared inside the elf. Pulling slowly out, then rocking in again, Anders asked, “How does it feel?”

“It does not hurt.” Fenris sounded surprised.

Anders’s response was a giggle. “Not supposed to hurt.”

The healer moved to change angle, to seek out the prostate. Fenris jumped when Anders found it. “Now?”

“That was,” Fenris mumbled, “unexpected.”

“Good or bad?”

“Good.” And then, as Anders moved back inside, the _elvhen’s_ register rose. “Very good!”

A smile, and a second finger and Anders had Fenris moaning. A third finger... “Fenris?” Anders’s voice was soft.

“Mmm?”

Anders smiled. “Would you prefer to be on top?”

“You -” Fenris sounded uncertain “- want me to take you again? I had hoped that you...”

Anders corrected, “No, with me inside of you. Me underneath, you on top. It would give you more control. You could ride me as you see fit.”

The deep voice was breathless. “Otherwise, you would take me this way?”

Anders nodded, then said, “Yes.”

“Which is better?” Fenris asked, intrigued.

“Well,” Anders said, “there is something to be said for all the ways you can be penetrated. Sideways, from behind, like this, or on top. This way we would be face to face. I would like that.”

Fenris considered. “This, then. Yes. This.”

“Right.” Anders removed his fingers, lifting one of Fenris’s legs into the bend of his arm. 

Anders lined himself up to enter. “Push out a little at first,” he said. “It should help the head fit in,” he added before starting to push.

Slick, he penetrated, rocking in and out, deeper with each push until he was able to fold Fenris’s other leg over his arm and thrust all the way inside. A groan from Fenris, a moan from Anders, and a moment to let Fenris get used to the feeling, then Anders began to move, slow and careful to begin, but sure enough to hit the spot he was aiming for. 

“Maker, Anders,” that deep voice moaned and Anders felt himself get harder inside the man if possible. “I’m not made of crystal. You can actually fuck me.”

Anders laughed, gave him a little twist of the hips and Fenris moaned again at the sensation. “Yes, serah.” And Anders began to thrust, first out and then deep, faster if not slamming into the man, and making Fenris cry out each time he held all of Anders inside.

The heat and the excitement was burning, building, greater and greater until Anders lost his hold on one leg, and reached for Fenris’s swollen erection, fingers in a circle in time until hot stickiness shot over the stroking hand. Anders cried out as Fenris tightened around him, and then all was lost in the haze of orgasm.

Gasping and clutching at each other, the mage and the warrior rode out the spasms together.  
...

Fenris woke up to the darkness of Isabela’s room. He knew the bed because it smelled like Isabela, though right now it still smelled mostly of sex. Arms around him, relaxed, asleep, he was cuddled up under Anders’s chin, with Anders leg between his, and one of Fenris’s legs between Anders’s, pressed against hardness. Of course, Fenris was hard as well. Last night had been quite an adventure, and Fenris found himself wondering what sex might be like with magic added. The _elvhen_ moved slightly against Anders’s leg, a tiny rub against his erection. Not nearly enough.

Anders pulled him in tighter. “Hmm?” And then he rubbed that leg against Fenris more strongly. “Good morning.” It was a quiet murmur, and then Anders’s hand was on him, stroking slowly, hand still somewhat slick from last night.

Shifting, Anders gently rearranged Fenris, spooning him from behind, and now the hand was wet with saliva, stroking, twisting up and over, a hum of encouragement when Fenris began thrusting into the hand on the down stroke. Ah, good and good and good until it was too much, and Fenris spilled onto Anders’s hand and Anders spilled against Fenris’s back. A swipe with the hand over the leaking tip, a hand dredging across Fenris’s lower back, and Anders’ arm pulled Fenris in tight against him while he did who knew what with the semen on his other hand.

Then the other arm wrapped around him, not trapping him, but warm, and he felt Anders’s gentle breath on his hair as they both went back to sleep.

Anders had awoken feeling incredibly rested. Justice was there with him, surprisingly. Justice was there just under the surface, listening, it seemed. In the time Anders had spent hosting the spirit he had never woken feeling this way, nor been allowed to dawdle with the morning routine of rising and getting on with the business of the day. 

Anders felt refreshed and warm, with a curvaceous soft body tightly spooned to him behind, and another cuddled under his chin in front. Fenris was awake, he realized, and the both of them were exhibiting morning wood with a vengeance. Anders could not be troubled at this point to do anything about his own, but it was a wonder to him to run his hand down the trim body to Fenris’s, murmuring some conventional thing that one did to awaking with a lover. The angle was wrong though, best to switch over, and he urged Fenris to roll slightly, and spooned him again. A trio of spoons, he thought with a smile, as he licked his palm and then engaged in morning after sex with the angry brooding _elvhen_ , stroking gently.

Unbelievable, that Fenris was so responsive to touch when he was so resistant to most other forms of social human contact. Anders’s hold tightened as Fenris began to buck up into the mage’s moving hand, making a slight noise, biting softly at the shoulder below his, and feeling a sense of satisfaction as the _elvhen_ began to come at his hand, and a small bite of surprise as he came against Fenris’s back. 

Maker knew what was on the blankets from last night, including the food that Fenris had brought back, and Isabela had insisted on sharing in creative ways, so Anders scraped his cum from between them - well, as best as he could - then lapped his palm and fingers clean before returning it to hold Fenris to him. Justice was there, holding Fenris as well, listening to the lyrium song he had taught Anders about. 

A discussion for another time, Anders thought. Then he fell back to sleep.

Isabela, used to catnapping, listened to them, then cuddled closer to Anders’s back, her arm over his hip, resting her hand on Fenris’s thigh. A thin familiar hand closed on hers, fingers twining, and then there was deep breathing in the darkness. The bunk in the captain’s cabin would need to be larger, she thought, for when the inevitable happened, and Anders had to escape from Kirkwall. 

Isabela let herself fall back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have tightened this story up. So to speak. Before I eventually go back to finish the other story about the removal of Justice.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much to my beta, Lunamoth116!


End file.
